


Strangers on a Train

by stele3



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Bandom, MCR - Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stele3/pseuds/stele3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SVA student Gerard Way in a sundress vs. Adam Lambert in a pink cocktail dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers on a Train

Pantyhose are the devil. They hadn't been so bad hanging around in his room -- for a few hours just, like, getting used to it and endlessly checking out his legs in the mirror -- but by the time Gerard gets to the subway his thighs feel sweaty and his calves itch. The balls of his feet ache from the pumps but no one is getting up from their seats. Logically Gerard realizes that it's just a regular New York 'fuck off,' but he can't silence the little voice that says they probably know he's not a real girl, and doesn't that answer the whole question? This was such a dumb idea.  
  
He's mentally debating whether he has enough time to duck into the bathroom before class to get the pantyhose off or whether he should just turn around and go home, when the doors open at a new stop and -- this person gets on. At first Gerard isn't paying attention, shifting unhappily in place just to feel the skirt swish against his thighs -- that does feel pretty cool, uncomfortable shoes and hose aside -- but the flash of bright colors in the corner of his vision stands out from the grey subway car like a textbook definition of contrast.  
  
The woman -- the guy -- the person is wearing this brightbright pink frock that was stitched together by hand. The bottom of it is artfully torn so that it flutters and shows off long, fishnet stockings. His -- Gerard's pretty sure that it's 'he,' the effect isn't really aiming for feminine -- hair is obviously a wig, long and black folds that are pulled back then tumble down to frame a heavily-done-up face. There isn't any attempt at a bosom, even the little B-cup thrift store bra that Gerard stuffed with napkins this morning. He is tall, made even more so by two-inch heels and he's obviously accustomed to them; when the car rocks, the guy doesn't even look up from texting on his phone, just sways and shifts his weight easily.  
  
Gerard suddenly feels rather demure in his plain blue sundress, scarf, and coat.  
  
He stares for the next five stops. He knows he's not the only one. Maybe people think they're together somehow, heading for a drag queen convention.  
  
On the stop just before SVA he has to change positions to let a mother usher her three staring children out the door, and when he looks back the guy in the pink dress is looking at him, eyebrows raised. Gerard tries not to lose his balance on his heels as the other guy looks him up and down, then slowly, slowly grins.  
  
They're not close together in the car. Gerard doesn't think he'd want to say anything anyway. He grins back and waves. He knows he looks like a dork, his fingers smudged with eyeliner and his pinkie sticking out. He doesn't mind. The guy waggles his fingers, and elaborately mouths Hello gorgeous.  
  
The next stop is Gerard's. He points at the door and the guy salutes with two fingers. He has press-on nails. Gerard's seen them in the drug store; they're not too expensive.  
  
He adjusts his scarf and steps off the train, his heels clicking loud on the subway platform.


End file.
